


An Involuntary Declaration

by Spaztiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dean, Gentle Dom Castiel, Grace Kink, Handprint Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Some Humor, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaztiel/pseuds/Spaztiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suck at summaries but I'll try. Oh you know these two idjits. Cas is so in love with Dean. And vice versa, but it's hard for Dean to say it or even admit it to himself. Set after the mid-season 9 finale 'Holy Terror' so there will be SPOILERS up to that point. Dean is depressed and drunk and Cas is back at the bunker. They're alone in the war room and the atmosphere between them is tense. Be prepared for a mixture of emotions. I basically tossed some cute fluff moments, a bit of humor, and a lot of angsty porn together and mixed them up real good. Please enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Involuntary Declaration

      Dean twirled his glass of whiskey, focusing on the swirl of golden liquid in an attempt to ignore the tension between him and Castiel. A few moments passed. He counted the deep, even breaths of the angel beside him to track the passing of time. Forming intelligent thoughts was becoming a difficult task. But that was the whole purpose of this process, wasn’t it? Get drunk. Forget problems. Regret later.

      Actually, a small part of Dean—the voice of reason—thought the whole regret part was coming on a little too soon for his liking. He could feel his inhibitions slipping away, he was letting his guard down. It wouldn’t be such an unwelcomed side effect if Castiel wasn’t sitting inches away from him. It took enough effort already to not let his strange feelings for his companion show through when he was sober. It was something else entirely to keep up the façade while he was drunk.

      Dean silently thanked the universe that no one was around to observe and then felt instantly guilty when he remembered the reasons for their privacy. Kevin, eye sockets smoldering accusingly, formed in his mind’s eye. And Sam—or Sam’s possessed body really—tied up in the lower level of the bunker stared critically at him, too. He had to believe that Sammy was still in there somewhere. Gadreel couldn’t have taken over. Not completely. Sam had been through some serious shit before. Even when he was possessed by Lucifer himself, he had still been fighting in there. Dean refused to believe this time was any different.

      “Dean, I believe we should discuss our strategy regarding Sam.”

      Dean flinched visibly at the mention of the very problem he was momentarily fixated on forgetting. “Cas.” Dean half-whined and he took a breath, tried to calm himself. “Come on, dude. I’m tired. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

      “I understand that, Dean. But this is a prominent issue we cannot ignore.” Cas shifted closer and Dean fought the urge to lean in as well. “Simply getting drunk is not going to solve anything.”

      Dean sighed and ventured a look at Cas. The angel’s body was turned towards him and his eyes searched his deeply when they met. It wasn’t unlike any of the other times they shared eye contact. That familiar pull in Dean’s chest, the urge to get closer, resurfaced. Yet, the small voice of reason in the back of his head was still functioning. The same instinct that made him recite his rule of personal space to Cas every other time was still there. So instead, Dean glanced back down and traced a finger across the rim of his glass. “I know, Cas. But, look, we’ll just deal with it tomorrow, alright? We’ve got Crowley to agree to help us so he’ll start on Gadreel then.”

      Cas nodded, contemplating. He seemed awkward and restless, as though he needed to be doing something but couldn’t. Dean guessed that was a result of his recently re-acquired angel-hood. He would probably be flitting around with his angel friends right now if it weren’t for the fact that they all hated his guts. Dean felt a flash of sympathy. Cas had made some mistakes, but when you compared it to the rest of their little rag-tag team who hadn’t done stupid shit? And Cas had done much of it for Dean.

      _I’m hunted. I rebelled and I did it—all of it—for you._

      He had tried to relive those moments with Castiel many lonely nights, replaying his words in his head, sometimes whispering them to the darkness. The fact that the angel had shown him such loyalty, such dedication never ceased to amaze him. Here was Castiel: the angel who rebelled for humanity. No, the angel who rebelled for _Dean_. That had been years ago and, still, Dean couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth it gave him to be reminded what the angel had done for him. It was good to once in a while just bask in it and let the guilt melt away in that warmth.

      “Dean, if you don’t want me here, I understand.” Cas spoke hesitantly.

      And, _goddammit_ , the guilt came crashing back over him. How had he repaid the angel who had done everything for him? He had kicked him out onto the streets, alone, with a newfound humanity he had no idea how to handle. What the hell had he been thinking in the first place? Cas had almost died—no, _he_ _had_ _died_. And then when he was finally safe, Dean had taken orders from Gadreel to boot Cas out. Gadreel! The dick who possessed his little brother’s body. The dick who wouldn’t be possessing his little brother’s body if it weren’t for Dean. _Fuck_. Dean threw back the last of the whiskey in his glass, grimacing, but grateful for the burn in the back of his throat. At least it distracted him from the burning in his eyes.

      Dean, eyes swimming, looked back up into Cas’s brilliantly blue eyes, hoping to quell the angel’s fears. “No, Cas, you can stay. Of course you can stay.”

      Cas’s frown relaxed and he seemed much more at ease. “Thank you, Dean.”

      “You know the only reason I made you leave before was because Gadreel didn’t want you here. Probably because he didn’t want you figuring out who he really was.”

      Castiel’s frown reappeared with that. “I’m so sorry.” He hung his head. “I should have known about Gadreel. If I had realized his true identity sooner we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

      Dean didn’t like where this was going. None of this was Castiel’s doing. “No, Cas, it’s not your fault,” Dean put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned Cas towards him. “Even if you had seen who Ezekiel really was, Sam would still be dying. The trials would still be draining him.”

      The look on Cas’s face made something inside Dean’s chest twinge painfully. His eyes portrayed the deepest remorse, face crumpled in concern. He resisted the urge to reach up with his other hand and soothe those worry lines away. Instead, he filled his own glass with more whiskey and offered it to Cas. He told himself he was too lazy and drunk to go and get another, separate glass for the angel, but a deeper layer of his subconscious told him otherwise. It was an intimate gesture for Dean. If he wasn’t drunk and they weren’t alone he probably wouldn’t have done it.

      Cas accepted the proffered drink and downed the generous amount of alcohol in one go. Dean quirked an eyebrow up at that. “Sometimes I forget your alcohol tolerance makes me look like a lightweight.” He watched the glass leave Castiel’s lips. A sheen of the fluid sat on his plump bottom lip and he swiped his tongue out to collect it. _Damn_. He wanted to lean in and lick the remaining whiskey off the angel’s mouth so bad he could already taste it.

      He tensed up at that last thought. _What was that, Dean?_ He had been having more and more thoughts like that regarding Castiel. Although Dean was aware of their ‘profound bond’ he wasn’t entirely sure how to react to these impulses that kept clawing their way to the surface. He knew what they meant. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready. Cas was attractive—hell, Dean wasn’t fucking blind. That had actually been his first thought when he met the angel. Well, after he had tried to shoot him anyway. His perfectly placed shots had done nothing but pierce holes in the celestial being’s trench coat and all Dean could think after realizing he was screwed was _damn, that’s hot as hell._ Not to mention the fricken light showCastiel had performed while making his entrance into the shed _. Fucking show off._

      Dean realized he had been zoned out and when he came to Castiel was assessing him. “Are you okay, Dean?”

      “Um, yeah, just feelin’ a lack of alcohol,” he tried to smoothly steer the conversation away from what he had truly been thinking about.

      “I’ll get it,” Cas said. He reached for the bottle, leaning way over Dean’s lap in order to take it. Dean’s nostrils flared at the flood of the angel’s scent around him. Cas didn’t smell like soap and sweat like any human would. Instead he carried an enticing concoction of woods and rain and something sweet that Dean could only identify as _angel_. Cas slid the bottle down the table towards himself and poured the last of the bottle into the glass. Dean started to move to take the glass from Castiel but he was shocked by what transpired instead.

      Castiel raised the glass to Dean’s lips and tipped it forward, scooting his chair closer in order to make the motion more natural. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, his legs suddenly encompassed by Cas’s and pressing against the angel’s inner thighs. But he opened his lips to let the whiskey flow in and swallowed it down, warily watching the angel’s curious gaze upon him.  A tense silence thickened the air between them. Cas tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly, that trademark look that he found both exasperating and endearing. A warmth began to spread within Dean and he wasn’t entirely sure he could just pass it off as an effect of the alcohol.

      The glass was pulled away from his mouth and he protested by following it, leaning farther into the angel. A little dribble of whiskey fell from the corner of his mouth and Cas followed the movement with his eyes, intrigued. A finger was placed at Dean’s mouth, gathering up the droplet of liquid. Darkened, stormy blue eyes held his as the angel deftly slipped the same finger into his mouth.

      _Holy hell,_ a breath caught in the back of Dean’s throat. Did Castiel even realize how hot that was? He squirmed, trying to ignore the sudden tightness of his jeans.

      “Are you uncomfortable, Dean?” Cas asked, tracking the movement.

      _YES_. _Because you’re the most blindingly beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on and you’re such a goddamn tease, yet you’re so innocent. You have no idea what you do to me! And now I’m trying to hide this awkward boner I have for my best friend._ “No.”

      The angel seemed to accept the answer and Dean took that as his queue. _Better leave before I do something stupid._ He stumbled up out of his chair, knees knocking against Castiel’s awkwardly in the process as he tried to escape the cage of the angel’s limbs. It was a mistake. He was obviously more inebriated than he had initially estimated, because he was pitching forward into the angel’s lap.

      “Dean—“ Cas brought his arms up around the hunter’s sides to steady him. “Are you okay?” he breathed against his neck.

      “’Mmm-hmm,” Dean mumbled drunkenly. He rested one hand on Cas’s thigh and the other on his shoulder to keep balanced. The angel felt good under his touch, solid muscles emanated an inviting heat. He caught Castiel’s expression then. It was intense—blue eyes crackling, emphasizing the electricity in the air between them and dark hair flaring out wildly from his head. His lips were slightly parted, puffs of his sweet breath tickled Dean’s face.

      He wasn’t sure of the exact moment he decided to kiss the angel, but he leaned in and experimentally brushed his own lips against Cas’s. It was nothing more than a soft caress—a whisper of shared breaths, but for some reason it was enough. He pulled back just barely to look Cas in the eye. The angel stared up at him in wonder and drew a lungful of air. “Dean,” Castiel whispered on his exhale of breath. And Dean shivered. Because it wasn’t a question or a necessary appeal for his attention; it was simply a statement of reverence. Dean felt Castiel’s hands knot and tighten in the sides of his shirt as he was propelled forward onto the angel’s lips once again. He groaned, the sound reverberating down in his chest, and deepened the kiss. He tangled his hands through already crazy hair and couldn’t help but wonder how sex hair would wear on his angel.

      _Wait, whoa, Dean, are you really going to take it that far?_

     Cas hummed and licked at Dean’s lips expectantly, hot and wet tongue sliding.

      _Hell fuckin’ yeah._

     Dean obliged and opened his mouth, the taste of angel exploding on his taste buds. Their tongues tangled in a battle for dominance. He slid his hand up muscled thigh, pausing at the obstacle in the form of tucked in button-down shirt. Never had he ever felt such resentment towards an article of clothing in his life. He impatiently removed the angel’s ever-present trench coat instead.

     Once he had freed Cas of the garment he took hold of his tie and yanked the angel to his feet. Cas flailed a little, off-kilter, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. “Cas, you sure you got your grace back?”

     Cas squinted in confusion. “Yes,” he said, sounding a little indignant. Probably upset that Dean had paused.

     “I only ask because that was not graceful at all.” He put on his biggest, eye-crinkling grin.

     The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched upward and Dean felt a swarm of emotions overtake him. As an angel, Cas rarely ever smiled. It kind of melted something inside Dean whenever those lips upturned and, out of habit, he filed the image away for the future. His reverie was interrupted when suddenly he was being roughly turned and shoved back against the table, wooden edge digging painfully into flesh. He reflexively threw both arms behind him to support himself, leaning at a backwards angle. Cas slanted his body over Dean’s before overtaking his mouth. Dean had never been manhandled before. Sure, he had gotten his ass handed to him more than a few times over the years, be it from a hunt or a drunken bar fight…or pissed off rebel angels. But he had never been sexually manhandled—he had always been the one to take charge with women. This was different, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but worry about what might be expected of him.

     Dean realized he was clearly overthinking things when he realized just how turned on by this he was. All it took was Cas looming over him, glaring down, for his blood to rush downwards and fill the flesh between his legs. He could feel the angel’s matching hardness against his thigh and, just to even the scores, Dean shifted his leg back and forth against it to generate friction.

     Cas threw his head back, eyelids fluttering, as he moaned low and feral. Dean watched with awe and growing anticipation as the angel came undone above him. Castiel gripped his hips tightly, aligning their cocks, and rutted against him. Dean gasped, pleasure coursing through his veins, and he struggled to keep his arms locked behind him in order to not fall flat on his back in submission. He decided they were both way too clothed for the things he had planned.

     He pushed back up from the table and yanked up on Cas’s shirt, freeing it from his pants. He flipped them around and pushed Cas so he was resting his back on the table, splayed out for Dean. No longer satisfied with the amount of skin he could reach, Dean leaned over to kiss the angel while his fingers worked at the buttons. Cas caught his bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling and pulling. Dean’s dick twitched, now achingly hard. He worked the shirt off Cas and slid down the angel’s lean body to mouth at the skin just below his belly button. He smiled against skin when the muscles jumped spastically under Dean’s touch.

     “Dean, please.” Castiel pleaded.

     “Please what?” He felt Cas tremble.

     “Your mouth—“

     He snaked his tongue out to trace the skin just above the hem of the angel’s jeans in a wet caress. “What about it?” Castiel’s whole body was tensed beneath him, cock jutting up against Dean’s throat. He liked teasing his angel—eliciting these reactions was definitely satisfying. He nuzzled his neck against the angel’s hard on and relished the strangled cry that escaped Cas’s lips. He lifted his eyes to lock with the angel’s, dark with lust and want, as he skillfully tugged the fabric of the angel’s pants with his teeth and pulled the button through. He slowly pulled both pants and boxers down long legs. _So the holy tax accountant wears boxers_ … _interesting_. He impatiently removed Castiel’s shoes and socks and dumped the clothing in a pile at their feet.

     He had Castiel completely naked and at his mercy now. Dean took a moment to take in the angel’s beauty. The dark mahogany of the table contrasted his pale skin, creating a glowing effect. _His angel of light._ His attention was brought to the angel’s cock, swollen and pink, precum already bubbling up out of the slit. Dean couldn’t help but feel a little daunted by it. He hadn’t ever been with another man before, but he himself was a man so he knew what felt good. It was strange, yet familiar.

     Dean bowed his head and deliberately hesitated in front of the angel’s cock, knowing what his breath would feel like there. Cas writhed on the table below him, nails scraping at the wood. Dean tentatively licked the head, getting his first taste of the angel’s sweetness, and Cas jerked his hips in response. He smiled and then swiped his tongue on the underside of the shaft from base to tip, leaving a stripe of saliva in his wake.

     Cas growled, “Dean!”

     Dean lifted his head, “Yes?” He reached up to slowly jack him off, firmly pinning the angel’s hips to the table.

     “Is it customary for you to torture your lovers like this?” he managed to pant out.

     “I don’t know what you mean.” He dropped his head again to lazily roll his tongue against the head of the angel’s cock. “How am I supposed to know what you want when you don’t tell me?”

     “Dean, please.” His angel sounded completely wrecked, gravelly voice strained and quavering. His hands made grabby motions at Dean’s head, but Dean just leaned barely out of reach.

     “Say it.” He wanted to hear it. His angel’s rough, deep voice was flawless—practically made for sex talk. Dean may have fantasized about it on occasion. He silently waited for Castiel’s reply.

     The angel’s cheeks stained a fiery red before letting out a shaky breath. “Suck me, Dean. Now.” And Dean felt the vibration of the angel’s command travel down the length of his spinal cord before buzzing pleasantly in his groin. He wasted no time, engulfing the hardened flesh before him with his mouth. Castiel let out a carnal moan and he skimmed his fingers through Dean’s short hair. Dean worked the angel up higher and higher, twirling his tongue and bobbing his head, as he palmed himself through his jeans.

     Cas abruptly sat up and wrenched Dean’s head back by the hair, pulling him off with a slick pop. The hunter was rather hastily undressed, shirts yanked off his body brusquely, before he was back in his first position on the table. The hunter felt a surge of adrenaline when the angel pinned him down and restrained his hands above his head. Cas sucked a hard bruise on Dean’s pulse point just behind his jaw, marking him. The hunter breathed heavily and turned his head away to give the angel better access. He didn’t see Cas reach a hand up to roll a pert nipple between thumb and forefinger and it was like a live wire of pleasure shot straight to his dick. “God, Cas! Yes!” he cried out. Cas journeyed downwards with his lips, trailing kisses across the hunter’s collar before descending on his other nipple. It was all tongue and teeth and heat and _God, it felt so good._ Dean could hardly take it anymore. His neglected cock was throbbing, his rapid heartbeat a continuous pulsating torture. He hauled Cas down on top of him, bodies flush, and their cocks slotted against one another. He forced the angel’s ass down, grinding their cocks together to create more of the craved, delicious friction.

     Castiel moaned wantonly above him and rolled his spine in undulating waves in time with Dean’s persistent pulls. “Ohh…Dean!” The angel sounded close, but Dean craved more.

     “Cas—I need you, Cas” Dean groaned.

     Castiel paused their movements and glanced up at Dean through his lashes. “You have me,” the angel whispered in response.

      The atmosphere instantly pivoted. Green eyes locked with blue; soul stared into grace. Dean’s heart swelled with emotion, tightening his throat. Castiel: his angel of the lord. The need to be filled in every possible way burned in his very essence. He opened his legs, wrapping them around his angel’s body. “Please, Cas,” he said, eyes searching, pleading.

      Castiel looked uncertain. “You sure you want this, Dean?”

      “More than anything, angel.” He thrust his ass upwards to prove his point. “Want you so bad,” he said breathlessly.

      Cas smiled gently down at his hunter before standing and positioning Dean so that his ass was perched on the edge of the table. It felt so intimate to be so utterly on display—it made him feel sort of shy and self-conscious at first. But then he caught a glimpse of the admiration in Castiel’s eyes and his anxiety was no more. This was Cas. He had raised him from perdition and rebuilt every cell in his body. He already knew everything about the hunter.

      A bottle of lube materialized from who-knows-where. _Yet another useful perk of angel mojo._ Dean lay his head back in an attempt to relax and heard the squirt of fluid from the bottle. He awaited the press of the angel’s fingers. Warm air ghosted across his hole before a hot, wet muscle swiped across the taut ring. “Oh my—“ Dean gasped. “Cas, is that—“ The angel’s tongue swirled in stimulating circles. Dean’s hips bucked on their own accord when he felt Cas’s tongue probe teasingly, just barely inside him. A warm finger slipped inside, replacing tongue and bringing a strange burning sensation with it. It didn’t really hurt him—his pain threshold was more like a pain patio when compared to the average human—but it didn’t really feel good either. He could feel the pressure of another finger added to the first and this time it stretched painfully. He shifted uncomfortably and Cas noticed.

      “Am I hurting you, Dean?”

      “Just give me a second,” Dean fought his natural instinct to tense up at the invasion. It took a couple moments. His muscles relaxed around the angel’s fingers. “Okay. Keep going.” Cas thrust his fingers back and forth, stroking inside of Dean. It started to actually feel good and then fingers nudged against prostate and Dean’s world exploded in a fiery blast of toe-curling pleasure. He thrust forward onto Castiel’s fingers, whimpering, needing more. The angel added a third finger and curled them inside, pressing against that sweet spot again and again. “C’mon, Cas, you’re killing me.”

      Dean was suddenly empty and he whined from the lack of ministrations. Castiel stood, coated his dick with lube, and lined himself up with Dean’s entrance. He slowly pushed in, groaning at the tightness of Dean’s muscles constricting around him. Dean’s mouth fell slack in a silent scream, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in bliss. The feeling of Cas inside him, filling him, was indescribable.

     Cas reached a hand up to Dean’s cheek to cradle his face. His thumb stroked soothingly across his cheekbone, encouraging him to open his eyes. “Dean,” his voice soft.

     Dean opened them, looking into his angel’s. His pupils were blown, black and glossy, echoing his own desire. “Move, Cas,” he whispered.

     The angel wrapped both hands around the outside of Dean’s spread thighs while maintaining eye contact, fingers curling in towards his groin. He pulled back until just the head of his cock remained inside and then sank back into the contracting heat. “You’re so tight, Dean,” the angel hissed between pants. “So pure.” He set a rhythm, pushing into the hunter at a steady pace.

     Every thrust hit its mark within Dean, reducing him to a writhing, sweaty mess on the table. He wrapped his legs around Cas’s body in a sort of embrace and met the angel’s thrusts with his own hips. Castiel reached down and grasped Dean’s leaking cock, the hunter moaning in response. He thumbed the slit then pumped the shaft in time with his movements. The angel ogled his hunter—glad for this opportunity to watch him come undone, grateful that he was able to please Dean in this way. The righteous man deserved so much and Castiel would do everything in his power to see that he got it.

     Dean was audibly unintelligible at this point, crying out underneath his touch, but the hunter was also fervently praying to Castiel. Everything he was trying to get out but couldn’t was sent as feedback to the angel’s grace. Most of it was just tiny snippets of the hunter’s thoughts like ‘fuck, so good’ and ‘so beautiful, angel.’ He knew it was typical sex talk but the fact that Dean was subconsciously praying it to him made it so much better.

     Castiel could feel he was close, a building energy was pooling somewhere low in his core. He couldn’t last much longer with the tight, gripping sensation of Dean all around him. He quickened his pace and, as a last resort, he placed his other hand on Dean’s shoulder, atop the swollen mark he left when he carried him out of hell. He concentrated a miniscule bit of his grace to flow through his hand and into his hunter’s soul. He had to be delicate—it would likely be overwhelming. So he let it slowly ebb away and seep into Dean’s skin.

     Apparently it was enough. Dean came, screaming and spurting hot, white ropes over his abdomen. The prayer the hunter sent in his moment of paradise was what sent the angel flying over the precipice with him. _I love you, Cas_. And Castiel’s orgasm was ripping through him. Not just his vessel either. The very essence of the celestial being that couldn’t be safely manifested shook with passion and screamed in delight. Every nerve ending sang with euphoria. A high pitched ringing rose within the room as Castiel lost all semblance of control and cried out triumphantly. _DEAN WINCHESTER LOVES ME._ Let his brothers and sisters hear. He didn’t care. He had received all he wanted in that declaration that Dean had accidentally let slip in his mind during orgasm.

     When Cas came to he was collapsed in a heap on top of a dazed looking Dean. “I’m sorry I got so loud,” he apologized, nuzzling the hunter’s chest with his face.

     “What?!” Dean yelled, clearly still recovering from the angel’s climax.

     Cas smiled giddily. Just to be sure he searched for the portion of his grace within his hunter, feeling for any real damage. He would be fine, but his ears were likely still ringing. Castiel kissed his neck tenderly, “I love you, too, Dean.” His hunter’s arms wrapped around the angel’s back and held him close, both unwilling to move, content to just lie there in the comfort of one another’s arms and worry about clean-up later.

**Author's Note:**

> ***  
> 
> 
> So this was actually my very first fanfic ever. I can't believe I actually wrote porn! :o But anyway, since I'm new at this and all, I would LOVE some feedback. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, if I did anything wrong, or what I need to work on...Just say whatever's on your mind after reading this. Did the switching from Dean's POV to Cas's bother you? That is actually my biggest question. I was originally going to do only Dean's POV but then I thought up some ideas for Cas's that I liked and I just couldn't help it. Did the transition work or no?
> 
> Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment so I can get better. I know I suck.


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